Odd Friendship
by HowAboutThat
Summary: How Skimbleshanks and Bustopher Jones become friends again after years of tension. It all starts when Skimble's life starts falling apart. One-shot. Rated T for safety.


HAT: I'm trying this again! Yes, I already did Skimble/Bustopher, but I wanna make it fluffy and adorable this time. Wish me luck!

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><p>Tonight has not been the best night of Skimbleshanks' life. Firstly, his long time queenfriend cheated on him for him waiting until the Jellicle Ball to mate and to top it off she dumped him. Even better, she dumped three young kits on him and now he's got to raise them and they're not even his or hers! They're her irresponsible tomfriend's kits and he didn't even name them! He had his best friend take his new charges for the time being since he was in no condition to watch over kittens that need constant attention. Bustopher Jones had heard about Skimble's predicament and offered to take him out. Of course Skimble would accept.<p>

_Dumbest decision of my life,_ he thinks, cradling his wounded paw to his chest.

One of the douche bags that his sister went out with decided to make a comment to him about how she's a "slut" and a "whore" and all of that cack. Being the good brother that he is he did what his sister wouldn't have wanted. She would've wanted him to turn the other cheek, but in his drunken, depressed state, his Scottish blood boiled too much for reason to reach his brain and he beat the snot out of the tom until consciousness was no longer an option for the cat. Bustopher had to drag him off and when the adrenaline wore off he realized that there was pain his right paw. The first thing that Skimble punched was the glass, but the tom's face was second and ended up being scarred because of glass sticking in it.

Unfortunately for Skimble there's glass in his paw that is too stubborn to get out. Despite his best efforts he can't get the glass out without using his claws to dig the shards out and make the wound bigger. He hisses quietly in pain and he was so engulfed in getting one stubborn piece of glass out of his paw that was very deep and painful even at the slightest movement of anything on his paw, he hadn't even realized that he was lead to Bustopher Jones' house until said tom spoke.

"Wait here," the black and white tom orders, walking out of the room.

Skimble does as ordered, more preoccupied with getting the glass out of his paw. He growls digs his claws into his already broken skin, making the hole in his paw much bigger than before despite the pain. He's been through worse, so he figures this would be a walk in the park. It isn't, but he'll life. Suddenly a white paw pulls his paw away from the wounded one and glass-green eyes lift to glare into dark brown ones.

"What're you doing?" the Scottish tom demands.

"Helping you. You could get an infection because of digging your claws into your paw like that," scolds the large tom, gently taking the profusely bleeding paw and looking over the damage. "I still don't understand how you got glass in the back of your paw when most of it should be in your fingers and knuckles."

Skimble winces and howls in pain as peroxide is put on his wound and pulls his paw to his chest and blowing on the open wounds to help sooth the pain. "That hurt!" he shouts, glaring accusingly at the tux.

"It's the only way to keep infection out of your paw," gently replies the tom. "Now give me your paw again." When all he gets is a reluctant stare he sighs and tilts his head slightly, shoulders sagging and his eyebrows shot up with slight impatience and what's to be a convincing face. "Come now, it'll be more efficient if I pull out the rest of the glass."

Reluctantly the orange tabby gives his right paw to the other tom and frowns at how the usually clean, white paws are now slowly turning crimson. It's not normal for this pampered tom to do... well... anything if Skimble remembers correctly. Just catered to and giving orders and going to clubs and trying exotic foods all the time. He's never seen him do something... productive like cook or clean or patch up a wound like he's doing now.

Deciding that silence is too much to deal with while his paw's being worked on, the cat of the railway train decides to strike up a conversation and hope for a spark to turn into a flame full of random conversations like with his best friend, Asparagus. "I never knew that you knew how to take care of wounds."

Dark brown eyes lift briefly to glass-green ones and those green eyes can't help, but notice the smirk. "You didn't think I was always around Jenny _just _to flirt, did you? No, she offered me lessons since I live on my own and I accepted."

_Wow._ "I didn't know that... now that I think about it, it's been a while-"

"Years," interrupts the Brummel of cats, knowing somewhat where this is going.

"Years," Skimble repeats, "since we were... friends."

"Well, when I started showing interest in Jenny, you weren't the happiest of cats."

Orange ears flatten sightly in both pain and embarrassment. "I'm sorry... How about we work on that relationship?"

The mostly black stop completely pauses, eyes still on the paw, but his own paws not moving to continue the work. "You don't know what you're saying. You're drunk."

"I may have had a pint or two, but I'm not that easy to get drunk," reminds the marmalade tom.

"Still drunk," accuses the spatted tom, continuing his work and making Skimble hiss in pain.

Skimble stays quiet for a moment, watching as Bustopher works, a little rougher than before, but still gentle enough that if he weren't to pay attention, he wouldn't notice the glass being dug out of his skin and fur. Soft "tinks" fill the silence and the brown tailed tom tilts his head, watching the crimson paws work with surprising precision. When he said he wanted to work on their friendship, he meant it. Asparagus is and will always be his best friend, but he (vaguely) remembers when Bustopher was part of their tight knit group. Then the only ones interested in him were a few... Bustopher practically grew up alone when it came to peers.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone," Skimble murmurs, guilt stabbing at his heart when he looks at the ground.

He blinks when his nose is flicked and he looks, shocked, at the white faced tom. "Don't apologize. It was good for me. Helped me build character and what not. Besides, I wasn't very social in the first place so being forced to helped me boost my confidence."

A hollow chuckle. "I forgot how... positive you could be sometimes."

A broad grin. "Of course you would... now for more peroxide."

Immediately Skimble snatches his paw back and holds it to his chest. "No."

"Do you want your paw to get cut off?"

A small groan and a reluctant paw offered. "Fine."

"Thank you," replies the tux, taking the paw and cleaning it again.

The silence, this time, is comfortable. Skimble's content to allow the tom to wrap his paw with bandages and watch his technique. He can tell this tom didn't lie about getting lessons wit Jenny because he has the same pattern when it comes to wrapping his pace. Palm, palm, around thumb/wrist, wrist, palm, wrist, palm, wrist. The exact way that his younger sister has a tendency to do it and what her pupils usually end up doing unless they develop their own way, but even then the first two/four steps remain the same.

"There, you're finished," the Jones says proudly.

"Thank you," the marmalade tom says, observing the pawdiwork (A/N: lol, I read this in my head again and I turned into an immature kid again and thought "potty work" for some reason. XD I love those little things that make me laugh... but it's like handiwork but... with... yeah, I know it's lame). "You did a great job."

"Thank you. Now, I don't think you want the kits to see you like this so do you want me to help you sneak home?"

Skimbleshanks shakes his head. "No, I prefer to stay outside of the junkyard for a little while..."

"Oh, yeah, that's right..." the pudgy cat trails off, remembering that if this tom _does _go back, he'll be hit by scents and memories best left alone. "Do you want to spend the night here? My owners won't mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm. You can take my bed. Since I'm not shedding they won't mind me on the furniture."

Skimble nods. "Okay. Thanks... Everlasting, I've been saying that a lot to you tonight haven't I?"

"Jass a wee bi'," the English cat says, imitating the Scottish accent so well that the actual Scottscat blinks.

"Perfect... if yer ginnae ge' a perfect accent, yer ginnae 'avta work a wee bi' more," the Railway Cat says, thickening his accent to the point that it's difficult to understand.

"What?"

The tom chuckles and speaks with an English accent. "If you're going to get a perfect accent, you're going to have to work a little bit more."

This causes the large tom to chuckle. "I think I like your in-between accent better."

"Huh?"

"When you've got a light Scottish accent, but it's not so light that you can't tell it's there or when it's thick, but it's light enough to understand," explains the tom as he takes off his white spats.

Skimble smiles. "I suppose this'll do."

"Perfect."

The marmalade tabby jumps down from the counter and immediately regrets it, having used all four paws to catch himself. He groans and hisses as he checks his paw. Immediately the black and white tom is by his side, looking at the paw. When he finds nothing is wrong he scolds the brown tailed tom about jumping off of things and immediately Skimble's reminded of a pudgy pale orange queen covered in tabby stripes and spots with chocolate brown eyes.

"Okay, okay, I won't do it anymore," promises the marmalade tom, brown tail flicking in slight irritation.

The white tipped tail flicks in agitation. "Alright... follow me."

The two walk up the stairs and Skimble gapes at how... extravagant the bedroom is... and it's for Bustopher and Bustopher alone. He gets onto the large bed and marvels at how soft the comforter is. He looks around and gapes. How one cat's humans could get all of this for one cat is beyond his comprehension. After all, his partial human is a station master. He never got a room all to himself unless it was... actually not even then.

Bustopher jumps onto the bed and reaches down to the marmalade tom. Skimbleshanks hesitate for a second before jumping up and reaching upward. He's grabbed by the scruff and uninjured paw before he's hauled up onto the bed. The tabby nods in the tux's direction and curls on the pillow. When the black and white tom's about to leave Skimble grabs his tail gently and then sits cross-legged, glass-green eyes downcast.

"What is it?"

"C-could you sleep in here tonight? I'm used to having-"

"I know."

"And the nightmares-"

"You don't have to explain."

Skimble looks up to find Bustopher lying down and then smiles. "Thank you."

A smile. "We're friends."

Skimbleshanks and Bustopher Jones act like they did as kits and curl up together and fall asleep.

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><p>HAT: I'm putting Skimble with a lot of black and white cats. Maybe Misto next? Just to get all the black and white cats out of the way? Let me know.<p>

Jellylorum: Well they aren't together...

HAT: Yeah, I was gonna put them together, but I decided not to.

Jellylorum: Review please.

HAT: All reviews are appreciated (even if it's mean, though I prefer constructive criticism).


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